


Still Her Doctor

by HiddenTreasures



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Regeneration, Romance, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 01:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7737979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenTreasures/pseuds/HiddenTreasures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Rose deal with the ramifications of his first regeneration since they’ve become a bonded couple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Her Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of [this fic](http://lastbluetardis.tumblr.com/post/144837405337/ten-x-rose-44) I wrote on Tumblr a few months ago.

She cried out with him as his body was finally overcome by the golden light. His presence in her mind seared hot, before settling into something new yet familiar, as a brand new man blinked open his eyes.

The Doctor sat up slowly, his new muscles still a bit weak and tender. He exhaled in relief as the searing pain he had been feeling mere minutes ago was completely gone. Unfortunately, the vile taste of the potion Rose had made him was still lingering in the back of his mouth. Hmm. He’d have to get rid of that before he kissed—

Wait.

_Rose!_

He met the tearful eyes of his bondmate, and his stomach twisted. He ached to hold her, but she was staring at him with a mix of emotions he didn’t care to look too closely at. Hurt, grief, and anger were among the top few, and he clamped down on the panic that she didn’t want him anymore.

_That’s ridiculous_ , he chided. _She knew this would happen again one day. She promised forever. We’re fine. We’ll always be fine._

Despite his logic, his emotions were still raw and his new body wasn’t quite capable of processing them yet.

“Rose?” he whispered. His new voice sounded a bit funny. A little cleaner, softer, and clearer. Different. “Rose, it’s me.”

“I know,” she said faintly, and the longer her mind buzzed chaotically in his mind, the more worried he became.

“So, what d’you think?” he asked, forcing a smile. He ran his hand through his hair; it was soft and longer than before, and he yanked a strand forward. “Ahh, still not ginger! Just sort of brown again. Lighter brown. Brown-ish. No matter. Moving on. What about the rest of me? Nose. Cheeks. Eyes. Eyebro—wait, where have my eyebrows gone? And _blimey_ , what a chin! Must’ve swapped one for the other, eh? What d’you think, love?”

Her hurt and anger spiked and the Doctor heard her slap her hand to her mouth to muffle a sob before she turned and ran from the room.

The air disappeared from his lungs and he scrambled to climb off the bed. Though being unused to slightly ganglier limbs, the Doctor got twisted up in the sheets. He fell sharply to the floor, but the smarting in his knees was nothing to the pain in his hearts. His bondmate had just rejected him. She didn’t want him anymore.

“Rose,” he wheezed, frantically reaching out for her. _Rose, please!_

_I need… just… give me a minute… please…_

She brushed her mind against his in what was probably meant to be a soothing touch, but he couldn’t take the comfort for what it was, especially since she retreated into the solace of her own mind directly after the caress. He gasped for breath as his vision went spotty, and his respiratory bypass kicked in to keep him from fainting.

_I love you,_ she whispered, feeling his distress, _but please let me be alone. Just for a little bit. Please?_

The Doctor could feel her pain and anger and agony. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to go find her, to comfort her and seek her comfort in return, but she had asked for space and time, just not in the capacity she usually did.

He finally stood on shaking legs to walk to their bedroom. He knew it was foolish to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help the crushing disappointment when he found the room empty.

Regenerating was exhausting, and if Rose didn’t want him, he could at least sleep until she did. _If she did_ his mind sneered at him.

The Doctor sighed and banished that thought as he stripped off his old, ill-fitting suit and automatically went to his dresser for a sleep shirt. His old body preferred to sleep without a shirt, but the nakedness didn’t appeal to him anymore, especially without Rose being just as naked next to him.

“Thanks, Old Girl,” he murmured, trailing his fingers over the soft material of his new sleep shirt, wondering if Rose would approve.

He turned away from the mirror, not caring about what he looked like, as he pulled the vest over his head. He then pulled open another draw as he looked for a pair of pants; this body was more in favor of pants than his old one. _One more bloody difference,_ he sighed, tugging on the boxers.

He slipped into his side of the bed and pulled the sheets over his weary body. He curled onto his side and grabbed for Rose’s pillow, hugging it to his chest as he inhaled her scent. He missed her and wanted so badly to ask her to come to him, but after her rejection, he didn’t feel like he could, or that she would be willing.

His last body was tactile, and this one seemed to be, too, and he wanted a hug from his bondmate more than anything in the universe. His eyes fluttered shut, and he couldn’t help but press a quick telepathic kiss to Rose’s mind before he retreated back into his own head and drifted off into a restless sleep.

oOo

_He stared in confusion at the neon-orange liquid Rose was offering._

_“Drink up,” she said cheerfully, thrusting the beaker at him._

_“But, I don’t need it,” he said blankly. “I’m fine. No need to activate the regeneration energy.”_

_“Drink,” she commanded. “Everything will be back to normal again.”_

_“What do you mean ‘back to normal’?” he asked worriedly, still staring at her outstretched hand and the cup of liquid. “Everything is normal now.”_

_“No, it’s not,” she said firmly as she threaded her fingers through his hair. The action usually felt pleasurable, but now her grip was too tight and she was pulling too roughly on his hair, and he bit his lip to stop from whimpering. “Everything is not normal, and everything is not okay. My husband is gone, and I’m going to bring him back.”_

_“Rose, let me go,” he pleaded. He reached for her telepathically, but she shut him out. “Rose, please. I’m your husband. It’s me. Your Doctor!”_

_Rose yanked his head back and started pouring the vile orange liquid into his mouth. It burned down his throat and his eyes stung as he tried and failed to catch his breath._

_“I’ll just regenerate again,” he spluttered, coughing up the potion._

_“No, the TARDIS helped me fix it,” Rose said smugly, her voice colder than he’d ever heard before. “She always liked me better. This’ll regress you back into your old body, and freeze you there. No more bodies for you. You’ll be back to normal in no time, back to being my Doctor.”_

_“I am your Doctor,” he pleaded desperately. “Rose, please! Just listen to me! Please don’t do this! I love you. I’ll always love you, and I’ll always be your Doctor! Just like you’re my Rose! Please, love!”_

_“Goodbye.”_

“Rose!”

The Doctor jumped as he panted for breath, his mind searching desperately for his bondmate before he remembered how she had run away from him before. He groaned as dug the heels of his hands into his burning eyes, wanting so badly for Rose to be with him and to love him and to hold him.

“Shhh, you’re okay.”

He recoiled when he felt Rose’s mind carefully chasing after his retreating mind and at the feel of a hand on his chest.

“It’s okay, I’m here.”

“Rose?” he sobbed, covering her hand with his. He tightened his fingers around hers, as though that would make her stay, and he barely resisted the urge to dive deeply into her mind and never leave. But she didn’t want him, not this him, and it felt like it did all those years ago when she’d asked him to change back into his ninth form, only worse.

“Doctor, breathe,” she whispered. She ran her fingers through his hair, and it felt so much nicer than it had in his dream. “Breathe, love, just breathe.”

He gasped in a breath when he realized not even his respiratory bypass was keeping him from having a panic attack.

“Breathe,” she whispered, resting her forehead against his. “Breathe with me. In… and out… in… and out…”

He focused intently on copying her, breath for breath, and after a few minutes, his chest loosened and his hearts slowed once more.

“There we go,” Rose whispered, exhaling raggedly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, his cheeks heating in embarrassment. “I’m okay now I think. You can go.”

“Do you want me to go?” she asked carefully, sitting up and away from him.

The Doctor took his hand away from hers and clenched it into a fist as he looked up at the ceiling. The round things were glowing a soft yellow against the domed coral ceiling, and the Doctor found he didn’t much care for it. He sighed when he realized him changing the desktop of the TARDIS would be yet another bloody thing that would alienate him from Rose.

“Do you want to go?” he asked, shoring up his telepathic barriers as he locked down on his emotions. He didn’t want Rose to feel as though she were obligated to stay. He should’ve known this would happen. She’s human, and for all her promises of forever, she just proved she didn’t really know what that word truly meant.

“Now that’s not fair,” Rose said quietly, picking up on that last thought.

“Don’t you tell me what is or isn’t fair, Rose Tyler,” he said through gritted teeth, still staring at the ceiling. “It’s not fair that my bondmate and best friend ran out on me when I needed her the most!”

“But I still love you and want you, Doctor,” she insisted, trying to cover her hurt that he could ever think otherwise.

“Yeah,” he said acerbically, “really did a bang-up job showing it.”

“You didn’t tell me that bloody potion would make you regenerate!” she shouted, her telepathic barriers no match for the hurricane of fear and anguish. “I was in shock! And hurt you didn’t tell me! And you _died_!”

“What was I supposed to do?” he hollered back. “Eh? _What was I supposed to do?_ I could barely get out the instructions for you to make me the blasted potion! It was a miracle I got it all right! When was I supposed to work in _oh, by the way Rose, this isn’t going to heal me in the way you’re thinking; I’m going to regenerate, if we can get this right, and have I told you to add the Bluxberry extract yet?_ ”

The Doctor inhaled sharply through his nose, disliking the feeling of burning anger pulsing through him. He let out a slow sigh and his muscles all went limp in exhaustion as he relaxed back into his pillows, his eyes slipping shut.

“You didn’t,” Rose finally said after a few minutes of tense silence.

He cracked open an eye. “Didn’t what?”

“Tell me to add any Bluxberry extract,” she said, the corners of her mouth ghosting up into a smile. “You told me to add Brixtonberry extract. Maybe that’s where your eyebrows went.”

The Doctor felt more of his anger recede at her teasing tone, and he allowed his eyes to close once more. He felt her fingers tentatively touch the back of his hand as her mind cautiously brushed up against his, and he recognized she was asking permission to enter. He lowered his preliminary barriers, only letting her skim across the surface of his mind. He could feel her hurt that he was hiding himself from her, but he also felt her guilt and understanding.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, running her fingers over the back of his hand and up his arm, then back down again. His skin prickled where she touched, and he ached to pull her into his arms and beg her to want him again.

“I do want you,” she whispered, her voice quivering. She wrapped a loose arm around his shoulders, ready to pull back if he rejected the hug. But he didn’t—he couldn’t—and he leaned into her embrace and let her hold him as he wrapped his arms desperately around her waist. “I do. I’m so sorry I’ve made you think otherwise. I was so selfish, running away from you like that, and I’d give anything to be able to do it all over again.” She sniffled and exhaled a watery laugh. “Haven’t got a time machine, have you?”

The Doctor smiled wryly and buried his nose in her neck.

“I love you,” she whispered, nuzzling her nose into his hair. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

The Doctor said nothing, but lowered his remaining barriers, unable to deny himself any longer.

Rose sighed in relief as he opened himself up to her, and she immediately wrapped her mind tightly around his as she coaxed them to lay down. She kept him in her arms, and encouraged him to curl up against her. He relaxed into her and pillowed his head on her breasts—which, in his humble opinion, were still fabulous, and he wanted to explore them again when he didn’t feel so emotionally and physically drained—as he wrapped his arm around her waist and flung a leg across hers.

His hair fell into his face, and he blew at it to get it off his nose, but it flopped back into his eyes stubbornly. Rose’s fingers were there before he could move his arm from her waist, brushing the strands back with the rest of his hair. He hummed as her fingers continued to slip through his hair, and he was pleased to know he still liked having his hair played with.

“I love you,” she whispered, curling her arm tightly around his shoulders. “So much.”

He burrowed closer to her as Rose walked through his mind, finding all of his lingering doubt and hurt and running a tender touch across them all. She offered apologies and reassurances, working hard to fix the trust she had broken.

As she worked on soothing him, he realized she was harboring her own emotional wounds, and he realized with a start that only a few hours ago, she had watched her bondmate regenerate.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was going to regenerate,” he murmured.

“Don’t be sorry,” she whispered thickly. “I’m just glad you’re alive and on the mend. I overreacted, and I’m so sorry.”

The Doctor showed her that he forgave her, but despite that, he still felt stirrings of insecurities lurking deep in his mind.

“I’ve got forever to make it up to you,” she said, infusing as much love and acceptance as she could into his mind.

The Doctor reveled in her familiar mental touch, relieved that this was the one thing that hadn’t changed.

_You still feel like my Doctor,_ she assured.

_And you feel like my Rose_ , he murmured, pressing a series of soft telepathic kisses across her mind.

She sighed and relaxed back into the pillows as the exhaustion of the day hit her fully. She pulled the sheets up around them both and wriggled around until she was more comfortable before she coaxed the Doctor back where he was. He nuzzled against her immediately.

_Nuh night_ , she whispered, idly stroking his hair as her eyes slipped shut.

_Night,_ he whispered, tilting his head to press a kiss to her collarbone. He could feel her mind quieting against his, but he pulled her back before she could slip completely into sleep. _Rose?_

_Yeah?_

_I love you. I always will._

_I love you, too, Doctor._

Rose shifted and leaned down to press her lips to his forehead. Well that wouldn’t do. He braced his weight on his forearm to reach up and catch her lips between his. Her lips were soft and dry against his, and the kiss felt different, but still amazing. He lifted himself higher to try and deepen the kiss, but Rose coaxed them out of it.

Before he could panic, she pressed a firm but chaste kiss to his lips as she said, _Later. We’re both exhausted, and I’d prefer to take my time with you._

The Doctor shivered at the intent and promise behind her words, but he knew his body and mind were too exhausted for physical intimacy. So he settled back down against her, more than content to continue in the quiet mental intimacy they had created.


End file.
